The Eyes Have It

Her name is Marty Jean, her mother’s name was Ethel Jean, her brand new human granddaughter is Lucy Jean.  

The “L” for Lucy is a part of son-in-law Lyle’s family tradition.  The Jean is for Marty, to honor Marty, to connect Lucy to Marty to Ethel Jean.  The name Lucy Jean sings Texas; the name is daughter Erin’s ode to her mother.

I was there when Lucy Jean was born.  I don’t mean in the room, I’m a cool dude, I’m not that cool of a dude nor was the mom to be, Erin, cool with me being that cool of a dude.  I was in the same town, the same hospital, the same floor as the birth, that’s how cool of a dude I am.  I was being a cool dude with Larry and Eileen the other grands, in the waiting room as the actual birthing took place.

The new human, Lucy Jean, was born around 8 p.m..  I sent pictures to Marty Jean who was at our lake house with Nathalie Nichole, her caregiver.  Not long after Lucy’s introduction to the world, not long after the pictures, not long after Erin and Lyle announced the name I sent another picture to Marty and left for the one hour some minute trip to the lake.  

When I got to the house a little after 11 that night I was tired but still a little juiced up from the day’s events…..you know, a whole new beating heart human being in the world that was a direct descendent of …..Me.  Marty and Nykkie were wrapped in soft sheets and blankets sitting up in her bed watching a little night time trash TV and sipping on drinks….cranberry.

I walked in and asked if they had received the pictures of Lucy I had e-mailed, with my smart phone skills you never know.  They did.  

I asked, “Well Marty, what do you think?”  

She didn’t hesitate, “She’s beautiful.”

“Damn straight, she’s your brand new grandbaby.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, looked at Marty and said, “What do you think of her name, Lucy Jean?  You know she is named after you don’t you?”

Marty smiled and her eyes opened wide.  I could see glimpses of pride and gratitude creep onto her face and come out through her pale blue eyes.  

I have to say for a 20^th century guy I am pretty intuitive.  I am lousy at poker because I can’t read strangers well enough to discern dishonesty, but I am good at seeing emotions played out in body language, facial cues, and the eyes of people I know really well.  I know Marty really well…..I have a doctorate of Marty after all.  

The eyes almost always do it for Marty, they widen, they brighten, they become clear and focused when she is happy.  

She said in response to my question of the name, “Oh, that’s kind of dumb.”

The words were the polar opposite of her face.  The words, “that’s kind of dumb,” came out of her mouth, “it is amazing, it makes me feel wonderful, I am so proud,” came from the face of the woman I know better than I know myself.   

The part of Marty’s brain that allowed for, that fed unmitigated physical displays of joy went away with the first stroke.  She doesn’t seem to get outrageously happy anymore and she certainly doesn’t show extreme happy these days.  There’s no raising of the hands in sheer joy, no verbal or non-verbal yippees, no happy dancing anymore.  Unrestrained is not what Marty does post stroke.  

Apparently she has adopted some false modesty in place of the yippee. I know she was thrilled because she can’t close down her eyes or her face or her smile.   When she said, very simply, “Beautiful,” in response my question of “what do you think?”,  when Marty’s eyes opened wide and flashed blue when I asked about the name, when she let go with her broad smile all I could see was Marty doing a wild gyrating happy dance.  

Lucy JEAN thrilled Marty for a lot of reasons.

I don’t remember if it was a song lyric or just a colloquialism but the words go something like this, “Are you going to believe what a say or believe my lying eyes.”  The eyes have it.

Names, Names and More Names

Names.  Marty Jean, daughter of Ethel Jean and Arty Jewell, you can see where they found her name.  Larry Carlisle, son of Bettye Lou and Larry Carlisle Sr., I am a junior; it’s part of my heritage.  My nickname, Ginger, is a part of our family lore.  Our names don’t define us, but they are gifts, of a sort, for our past.

The names we carry are signs of where we came from, where we started.  Marty never particularly liked the name Jean, her mother went by Jean because she didn’t like the name Ethel and I was married to Marty for 20 years before I knew Arty’s middle name was Jewell, he truly wasn’t a Jewell kind of guy.

Marty and I worked hard to provide our children names they would be proud of and wouldn’t scar them in some way.  It’s my memory that I named our children, I’m betting Marty remembers differently, but since I’m the scribe, I named our children and named them well.

Matthew McCauley is a great, strong name which has fallen to the derivative Matt, but it really fits my son, he is Matt.  The McCauley is a family name, people who raised Marty’s maternal grandfather and at the time we wanted to honor Marty’s family but Arty and Jewell just didn’t seem to work in 1979.

Our daughter’s name is Erin Elaine mostly because I liked the name Erin, it’s a Celtic name and we aren’t Celts, but I liked the name anyway.  Elaine came about because it was my sister’s middle name….sorry Martha, not really, it just seemed to fit with Erin and Erin Elaine rolled trippingly off the tongue.   

I tried to exert what patriarchal influence I thought I might have when grandchildren started to appear.  I strongly lobbied for a good strong Texas name that would reflect the powerful lineage of both families, a Larry on our side and a Robert on the mother’s side led to the logical name, Larry Bob.  Larry Bob died a long death, and morphed into Noah Robert which is probably a better reflection of the budding train engineer that is Noah, but I’m going to call him Noah Bob and I don’t care what they say.

When daughter Erin came to be with child they decided they didn’t want to know the sex prior to birth, it was to be a surprise, much like the whole being with child thing.  Because husband Lyle’s family has an L thing going with names and because Erin had put dibs on Luke for a child’s name since she was 12 the boys name was to be Luke something or other, we didn’t get to the something or other because we got a Lily, a perfect little baby girl.  In fact, we got a Lily Jewell and got to use Marty’s father’s name in a very appropriate fashion and I get to sing “Hi Lily, Hi Lily, Hi Lo” endlessly when I hold Lily Jewell.  

Now we have a new one on the way, a new baby girl.  My son and his wife are keeping names close to their respective vests.  Sarah, Noah Bob’s mother, keeps saying she just doesn’t feel any of the names proffered.  I keep reminding her of the plethora of strong family names we have, Ethel, Beatrice, Lula, a Bettye Lou, Ebba Bird or Grace, all kinds of really cool names.  I’ve offered Sally Jo but that was a no go.  I suspect they will know her and her name when she comes next month.

The semi-remarkable thing about all of these names is that Marty knows them, remembers them, recites them.  All along she has been remarkably good at remembering names and faces of people she knew before the strokes, but she struggles with names of people she has since come to know. 

 Marty trusts our three amazing caregivers, Nikkie, Renae and Erica, completely.  She spends hour upon hour with them, listening, talking and getting to know them.  She knows who they are, she knows what they do for her, she struggles with their names.  If you say their name, recognition, if you ask what their names are, the recognition is there, but the names are not close to the tongue, her brain knows who they are; getting it to the mouth doesn’t work.

Her grandchildren however, she knows and remembers their names.  She can’t get down and play with them on the floor, she can’t really interact to the degree she would like, but she is absolutely enchanted with both Noah Bob and Lily Jewell.  She knows she is attached, she knows they are hers; she knows they are a part of her life.  Marty knows their history and their names are in forever in her brain and on her tongue because they are a part of her.   

I like my name; I like the fact that it ties me to my family and is a part of my past.  I really like the fact that Marty remembers her grand kid's names, I really like the fact that she is still here to see and appreciate her children passing on names and passing on her family's past.  Mostly, as always I really like the fact that she is still here, with me.